ATF: To Survive
by chronicler-of-knuckles
Summary: SLASH relationships. The after shocks of a hate crime sends ripples through the 7... particularly when the victim is one of their own.
1. Beginning

  
To Survive By The Chronicler 

Friday, 7:38pm

J.D. laughed. "Buck is gonna scream."

Ezra raised one eyebrow. "Now, Mr. Dunne, I thought that was the idea of this little shopping expedition." Despite his attempt at being ever so proper, he smiled as he watched his young friend bounce with delight at finding the perfectly perverted gift for his overly exuberant lover. He was really quite proud of himself. Introducing little John Daniels Dunne to the wonders of the great magic shops (and he was not talking about hokus pocus, card trick magic) of the Denver homo- society.

Not that Ezra P. Standish made it a habit to browse sex shops, but, then again, Glamour wasn't just any sex shop. It was the Tiffiny's of all sex shops. They had everything. And they knew how to cater to a client all the while being discreet. Everyone there might know you, but they never tell.

Many a pleasures Special Agent Christopher Larabee has experienced thanks to Glamour... and Ezra's imagination.

So, when J.D. came to him, shy and blushing, with a not-quite-formed idea of what he wanted to get Buck for his birthday, Ezra knew exactly where to take him.

"Shame on Mr. Standish" chuckled the counter clerk "for not bringing that sweet little ass by sooner."

J.D. paused, glancing at him. "Huh?"

Ezra shook himself out of thought when he noticed that J.D.'s youthful, innocent, excitement had attracted more than a few hungry eyes. he quickened his step, coming between the reaching clerk and the kid. "Now, now, hands to yourself." he chided the man. "You never know who you might roused when you touch what is not yours."

The clerk chuckled. "No need to jealous. I can do you both." He paused, frowning. "He is legal age, right?"

"I'm old enough to do whatever the fuck I want!" J.D. snapped.

But Ezra quickly pushed him toward the door. "Yes, you are, young man. Now, take your new toy out to the car while I remind these gentlemen that, even if you weren't quite capable of taking care of yourself, Mr. Wilmington would surely be displeased..."

"Hey." the clerk interrupted. "Buck Wilmington? He's that big dude that hangs with Larabee?" At Ezra's nod, the clerk waved his fingers at the still confused J.D., offering a sweet, yet chaste "Thank you. Do come again." Then he turned his complete attention to Ezra. "Now, what can I get for you, Mr. Standish?"

"Ez?" J.D. inquired.

"To the car with you, Mr. Dunne." Ezra waved him away. "I'll be with you momentarily."

J.D. chuckled. "Ez, you are such a closet perv."

"Not closet, Mr. Dunne." the older agent corrected. "Just with style."

Laughing, J.D. stepped out the door and out into the chilly night. He couldn't believe that he had just roamed a sex shop. Totally skip the thought that he had roamed it looking for a present for his absolutely hot, adoring, gorgeous lover...

He shook his head, chuckling to himself as he started for Ezra's car in the parking lot. Shit, he sounded like a kid. Even to himself. All giggly and bubbly. One would of thought that'd he'd lost his virginity only yesterday, when it had been a whole five months ago.

Five happy, outrageous months... and he finally figured out where Buck got all those... interesting toys.

"Hey, sweet cheeks." Someone swatted him on the rear.

Startled, J.D. jumped to the side, dropping his bag. "Hey!" he protested, glaring at the man who was standing way too close.

"What you doing?" demanded the big man, shoving him back, then following him back. "You little pervert, can't you keep your distance!" Again he shoved J.D. back, and again he stepped up to him, so close their chests were nearly touching.

"Hey, what the fuck..." J.D. snapped, returning the shove.

The man held his hands out, looking back at his four football buddies who had gathered around. "See? Little fag can't keep his hands to himself."

"Careful, Frisco. Never know what diseases the little turd might have." warned one of his buddies.

J.D. paused, a little hesitant. He glanced at the store, hoping to see Ezra there, watching to see if he needed back up. But there was no Ez.

So, what? He was all grown up! He was a full time, 100 ATF agent! Hell, he could get himself outta this without any big brother rescue!

"Shit, you freaky cock sucker probably got AIDS, don't ya, you little shit!" the pusher accused, wiping his hand clean of any imaginary contamination on J.D.'s t-shirt.

The ATF agent smirked. "Fuck off, asshole." he encouraged just as sweetly as humanly possible, before turning away from them and reaching down for his bag.

He really did wish Ez was at least in sight.

"Christ, Frisco! The shit eater's actually making fucking advances!"

"Fucking perv!" the pusher snarled, throwing his fist through the air.

"Shit!" J.D. cried, ducking just in time.

The second blow he reflected with his forearm while sending his own fist straight out, catching his attacker square in the nose.

Cursing up a storm, the man stumbled back, his hand cupping his face as if he had a chance of stinting the flow of blood.

"Back the fuck up, asshole!" J.D. yelled. "I'm a c..."

"Kill the fucking fairy!" Frisco raged.

Suddenly one of his buddies lunged from the left, tackling him low, another came in from the right, hitting him high.

Before he could take a breath, J.D. found himself slammed down on the cold, black top of the parking lot, his head exploding like a flash grenade. He wasn't entirely sure when he had hit, or how he even got down there. The only clear thought making it through the flashing light was Ezra, hurry your butt up!'

"Kill the slimy, fucking, fairy!" his attacker snarled again.

Pain shot through J.D.'s back as a boot came crashing down on him. Another hit him in the gut, doubling him over with a gasping cry. Another kick and another.

Holy crap, his mind screamed, they were really gonna kill him!

Desperately, he reached out, slapping a swinging foot away.

"Fuck!" cried one of his attackers as he was thrown off balance and stumbled against a buddy.

A foot came down square between his shoulders, shoving J.D. face down on the black top and pinning him. "Now, I thought all you pussy boys were, like, nonviolent, huh!"

There was a snap of leather on leather. "You just gotta know how to deal with fairies, Jimmy." laughed another. "They like to be whipped."

J.D. screamed as the leather belt cut across his back. The second strike was twisted just enough that the metal buckle snapped him in the side. Again he screamed.

While one kept him pinned down, the other four men began to kick him from all angles, backing off just enough to get a good swing with there belts. The attack seemed to last forever when, like an alarm clock, a clear tone rang out as metal belt buckle hit something else metal.

The attack stopped.

Gasping, J.D. withered on the ground at their feet. Somewhere in the back of his head he wondered who had hit the fight bell.

"Woe, woe. What is this?" One of them jerked him to his side. "Shit, this pansy's packing."

J.D. stopped breathing. Too hurt to move, his mind shot wide awake, yelling to all who might hear, which was no one, My gun! Oh, god, they found my gun! They're gonna kill me my own gun!'

"Hey! Get the fuck off of him!"

J.D. gasped. Ezra! His hero!

"Stop! A.T..."

A shot rang out.

Ezra!

tbc


	2. Part 1

  
Part One 

Friday, 9:15pm

Chris Larabee ran into the ER. Instantly he latched onto a nurse's arm and demanded "Standish! Dunne! Where are they?"

The nurse glared up at him. "You can't be back here. Back in the waiting room with you. Some one well come and get you when and if ..."

Angrily, Chris shoved her aside. Glancing about sharply, he found no one else with in reach to grab and demand the where abouts of his men. So, he chose a new tactic. Holding his badge up high, he shouted at the top of his fucking-lucky-I'm-not-pulling-my-gun voice "ATF! Where the fuckin' hell are Agent Standish and Agent..."

"Chris!" Josiah spoke up as he finally caught up to him. With cell phone in one hand, he caught Chris by the elbow and directed him to an elevator. "Nathan called. He's with them."

"Where!" Chris wanted to know as they stepped into the elevator. "Are they alright?" All he had been told was that Ezra and J.D. had been attacked, that there had been some shooting, and that his men had been taken to the hospital.

"Lets find out." Josiah's hand hovered over the floor buttons for a moment, searching for the right one.

Chris' heart stopped for half a breath, watching to see what button he pushed. When Josiah found the fourth floor and hit the button, he practically collapsed with relief. Falling back against the side rail, he breathed "Thank you."

Josiah glanced over his shoulder. "For what?"

"For not hitting the down button."

The big profiler glanced at the panel. In the staff elevator, which Nathan had given them the pass code to, the down button was clearly marked in bold letters MORGUE'. Josiah dropped his eyes, understanding. Licking his lips, he assured "They're alive. Both of them." He didn't want to say more. Admittedly he knew very little more, and that little he rather his explosive friend learned that from someone else.

Chris didn't even wait for the doors to fully open before rushing out.

Josiah practically had to run to keep up. "Slow down, Chris. You're gonna frighten off the staff."

Agent Larabee slowed his step, but not because of the warning.

Ahead of them, pacing in front of a row of waiting chairs outside the O.R., was Nathan. Sitting in one of the chairs, hunched over with his face in his hands, was J.D.

"J.D.!" Chris called, a little confused at why he was sitting in a chair and not in a hospital bed being given the best of care they sure as hell better be giving him knowing that Chris fucking-pissed-off Larabee was on his way.

Nathan stopped his pacing, spinning about to watch the two men approach. "They're here." he told the young Agent, offering his hand, just in case he hadn't heard.

With a heavy sigh, J.D. waved off the medic's assistance, and slowly rose to his feet and turned to face his friends.

Chris quickened his step, hopefully. If J.D. was upright, maybe Ezra... He stopped cold mere feet from his youngest agent.

The front of J.D.'s white t-shirt was a wet, crisom red. It was splattered on his arms, on his jeans, dripped on his green hightops, staining the yellow laces pink.

"Shit." Josiah gasped, a rather unusual reaction from the ever calm man. But, even warned that it had been bad, he hadn't expected this... this bad.

"What the crap...?" Chris demanded, grabbing J.D.'s arms and pushing him back down in the seat while glaring at Nathan. "Why the hell isn't he being looked after!" Not waiting for an answer, he crouched down in front of the boy and wanted to know "Where are you hurt?"

"I... I'm n... not..." J.D. stuttered. He looked down at his t-shirt. "It... it ain't m... mine... my blood." He wrapped his arms around his belly and dropped his head down until he was nearly folded in half.

Chris stared. If it wasn't J.D.'s... His gut twisted in a sickening knot.

"It's Ez's blood." Nathan confirmed. He reached out and rubbed the back of J.D.'s neck. "Chris." He paused to glance at Josiah, hoping the profiler would have a better clue as to how to brake the news. But Josiah didn't want the job either, so... "Chris," Nathan started again, "Ezra was shot."

Chris clenched his teeth, his eyes remaining locked on the boy before him, his fingers, unknowingly, tightening around J.D.'s arms. He knew Nathan had continued to talk, continued to explain what had happened. He heard his voice, knew the cop part of his brain was recording the information, filing it away for later use, but the rest of him never got pass "Ezra was shot."

Ezra was shot!

He took a breath.

Ezra was shot!

His fingers tightened, holding desperately onto the only thing he could feel, though no longer aware of what it was.

Ezra, the man he loved, shared his bed with, took care of, would die for, was shot!

"Chris!" Josiah grabbed his wrists, jerking his attention back to the here. "You're hurting him!"

Chris blinked. "Hurting?" he mumbled. As if opening his eyes, he suddenly saw J.D. again and understood. "Oh, shit, J.D." He released his deathlike grip on the boy, leaving behind ugly red finger marks around his forearms. "J.D., kid... I'm sorry. I... I didn't realize..."

"It was my gun." J.D. whispered, not looking up.

Both Josiah and Nathan sent the other startled looks. It was information they knew. But they were hoping to be able to assure Chris that everything was gonna be alright, before anyone jumped to accusations. Unfortunately, J.D.. was already accusing himself.

"What?" Chris hissed, not believing what he had said. "What do you mean your gun?" The impossible leaped to mind. "You didn't shoot Ez?" He knew that was beyond imagination. But what else could the kid have been trying to say.

"They were coming out of The Glamour Hut." Josiah explained. "They were jumped."

"I was jumped." J.D.. corrected. "Ez saved me... and they shot him." He gagged as the memory played out in his mind's eye. He twisted his head away, squeezing his eyes, trying not to see what he knew he could never get out of his head.

But Chris just couldn't grasp what he was being told. His lover was shot by his officer's own gun... "How the hell did that happen?" he suddenly snarled, rising up to tower over J.D.. "How the fucking hell did they get your gun?"

"Chris..." Josiah cautioned.

Fear and anger blocked out common sense, and Chris had found a handy target. "What the fuck kinda agent are you? Let some jack off shoot one of your very own partners with your very own opps-it-dropped gun?" he roared.

J.D.. took every word of it, leaning forward like a cowering dog, his head on his knees, rocking back and forth.

"Stop your fucking sniveling and answer me, damn it!" Chris was swinging his fists in the air, coming dangerously close to making contact with the kid. "Where the hell were you? Laying like a helpless piece of shit in the fucking grass, watching the bastards shoot Ezra! Were you sniveling then too!"

"That's enough, Chris!" Nathan snapped, stepping forward to protect J.D..

But, before he could interfere, Buck Wilmington beat him to it.

Grabbing his best friend by the collar. he yanked him about and slammed him against the opposite wall. "Get the hell away from him!" Buck snarled, just as angry, just as scared, and just as ready to take it all out on the wrong person as Chris was.

Chris spun about to glare at him. "Stay out of this, Wilmington! He's got some answerin' to do."

Buck squared off with the man he knew could kill him in a heart beat if so provoked. If Buck took a moment to think about it, he couldn't think of a better provocation than standing between Chris and who he perceived as the reason his lover was shot to hell. Shit, if it had been J.D.. shot and Ezra's gun that had done the shooting...

But it hadn't been.

And it would be a cold day in hell before Buck allowed Chris to ever hurt his J.D..!

For a moment it seemed as if the two friends would go at each other, maybe even kill each other. But then someone cleared her throat.

The four older agents turned to see Rain Jackson in operating scrubs, her arms crossed over her chest. "Anyone takes a swing at anyone else, making my night even shittier than it already is, and I will have each and everyone one of you admitted to the insanity ward." She jabbed a finger at her Nathan. "And don't think for a minute a little thing like a marriage license would save your ass!"

As if it was entirely his decision, all eyes turned to Chris.

Having a moment to breath, Chris looked pass Buck to where J.D.. still rocked, blood all over him, his shoulders trembling... and he realized with a wave of shame that it wasn't J.D.. he was mad at. Hell, he was more pissed off at himself for not being there to protect the boys.

Buck sighed, once more stepping protectively to block Chris view of his young love. "You wanna take a swing at someone, swing at me. Ezra took him to Glamour to shop for my birthday present."

Chris reached out and set a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I'm not gonna take a swing at anyone." he assured. He mustered a smile. "Right now, you'd probably beat the crap outta me." Again, he looked pass him to J.D.. "Go take care of him. Get him outta that damn shirt."

Buck nodded once before turning and stepping over to stand in front of J.D.. "Hey, baby... let me see those beautiful hazel eyes." He took him by the shoulders and lifted him to his feet.

J.D.. slowly, hesitantly, raised his eyes. At first they seemed unfocused, dulled as if something was turned off. But then, finally realizing who it was standing before him, he gasped "Buck!" Throwing his arms around the man, he buried his face in Buck's chest and held on for dear life. "Oh, god... Buck.. it was my gun..." he sobbed.

"Nate, why don't you take them to the exam. Get him washed up." Raine suggested. "I'll be there in a minute."

Nathan quickly stepped up and, setting a hand on Bucks shoulder, he guided them down the hall. Buck moved awkwardly, J.D.. attached to his so tight he was beginning to have difficulty breathing. Figuring they would never get there this way, he pushed J.D.. back just enough so that he could scoop him up into his arms. And, then they were off.

Waiting until she was sure J.D.. couldn't hear them, Raine turned her attention to Chris. Damn, she hated this, giving news, particularly when it was to a friend about a friend... men she dearly loved like brothers. Taking a deep breath, she stole herself away to do her job. "Ezra made it through surgery better than expected."

Chris' eyes closed lightly and he fell back against the wall, breathing a deep sigh.

"Thank god." Josiah breathed. But, when Raine didn't share in their relief, he stiffened. "What else?" he asked.

Raine hesitated.

Chris' eyes opened again. "He was shot in the head." he said in an unemotional tone, his mind pulling out of some file bits of information Nathan had given him. He looked at the doctor for confirmation.

Rain nodded. "The bullet broke through the skull here..." she pointed to her high, right temple, "and skidded across the brain."

"Son of a bitch!" Josiah snapped, spinning about to slam his fist against the wall.

Amazingly, it was Chris who remained calm and asked the next obvious question. "Is there brain damage?"

Again, Raine nodded. "We won't know the extent until he comes out of the coma. There is a good chance that it is mild and he could make a full recovery."

"And there's a chance he won't." Chris rolled across the wall until he was facing the cold, sterile surface. Leaning his forehead against the wall, he closed his eyes, then opened them again as wide as he could, hoping he would wake up from this nightmare.

But it didn't work.

Raine continued to explain. "The part of the brain effected controls perception and motor skills. We can expect a variety of recovery complications from rebuilding his motor skills to his perception."

"Perception?" Josiah repeated, glancing at her. Though he was listening, his attention remained on Chris' back. God, he wished the man would look at him, show him what was going through his head, tell him what he could do to make it better. Then again, he doubted if even Chris knew, so how the hell could he share the info.

"Ezra may experience difficulty deciphering letters or objects that should be framilar. Sorta like dyslexic... but in a more extreme form." Raine answered. "It will be like his files are all mixed up."

"Like orange filed under blue?"

Raine nodded slightly. "Yes, but more like orange filed under turtle." She shrugged. "But, in truth, this is all speculation. We won't know anything for certain until he comes around."

Josiah watched as Chris ran his fingers through his hair. The man was seriously on the edge. "When will that be?" he asked, hoping that hearing their voices just might keep him focused and in control.

The doctor sighed. "That depends."

"Depends on what?" the profiler wanted to know.

"On Ezra." Raine almost flinched when Chris' head snapped up, his clear gray eyes locking on her. But she pushed on. "It depends on his strength, his desire to wake up, his willingness to fight..."

"He'll fight." Chris spoke up. "Don't doubt it. He will fight. He will wake up. And he'll be just fucking fine!"

Raine smiled a sad, gentle smile. "And he needs you to keep telling him that. Even if it seems he can't hear you, keep telling him that."

"Can we see him?" Josiah asked.

Raine shook her head. "He'll be in recovery for at least the rest of the night. Then he'll be moved to ICU. You can see him then." Taking a deep breath, she rubbed her hands on her thighs. "I suggest you boys get something to eat and, maybe some coffee. and definitely some sleep. It is gonna be a long, hard climb from here on out and Ezra's gonna need you all strong and healthy if you're gonna get him through this." She started pass them. "I better go see to J.D.. now."

Chris grabbed her hand as she passed.

She froze, Josiah taking a step toward them just in case Chris' rage had found a new target.

Chris Larabee squeezed her hand gently, and whispered "Thank you."

Raine closed her eyes lightly. "I wish I could give you more." she admitted.

Chris offered her a reassuring smile. "You gave me the best, damn hope in the fucking world simply by being a great doc." Again he squeezed her hand, before releasing it. "Please... take care of J.D.."

She returned the smile, then, with a glance to Josiah, continued on her way.

When she was gone, Josiah took a step toward Chris, wanting to offer some sort of comfort, but Chris stopped him with an upraised hand.

"Don't." he growled. "I don't need it."

"Chris..."

"Josiah." Chris pushed away from the wall. "Find out who did this. Find out why. And make sure they fry for it."

Buck wasn't that much happier now that he had peeled his partner off of his chest, than when the kid was crushing his rib cage. In fact, he wished his kid was clinging to him again. Anything was better than the way J.D.. was looking now. 

He just sat on the exam bed, his eyes locked on something no one else could see. His fingers gripped the edge of the bed on either side of his hips, and he leaned forward as if he would push away, but he didn't trust his legs to hold him when he did. He was covered in a cold sweat, plastering his raven black curls to his clammy temple. His skin was a sickly pale and he was shivering with such force his teeth chattered.

"Come on, J.D.." Buck pleaded with him. "Snap out of it, baby." He tried to tug on his arm, wanting to get him out of that damn, bloody t-shirt.

But J.D.. didn't respond.

At a lost, Buck looked to Nathan for help.

Nathan came up behind J.D.. and laid a gentle hand on his back. "He's in shock." he observed, when the boy didn't acknowledged his presence with a glance or even a flinch. "We've gotta get him out of this crap."

"Then cut it off." Raine ordered as she entered the room. Snapping on a pair of gloves, she quickly found scissors and began cutting the t-shirt off while ordering "Nate, get me a blanket. Buck, get his shoes and socks off. Be careful. I doubt he's been in any state to tell anyone if he was hurt or... Holy crap!"

Nathan leaned over her shoulder to see what had stopped her.

Black and blue, shoe size bruises spotted J.D.'s back and shoulders. A half dozen angry, red welts stretched across his lower back, some accented with belt buckle shaped cuts.

"What?" Buck wanted to know, unable to see what they had seen from where he had crouched down to remove J.D.'s shoes.

Nathan's gentle eyes flared. "The bastards beat the crap out of him." he managed to say without growling.

Raine turned her eyes away, took a deep breath, then turned back. "Nathan, hand me a sponge kit."

"The son of bitches." Buck hissed. He looked up to see J.D.. watching him, his eyes blood shot, his pale lips trembling. "Ah, baby." he whispered, reaching up to cup his cold, damp cheek.

J.D.. turned his head away from the touch.

Buck stared up at him, more than a little startled that he had turned away. J.D.. never turned away from him!

Raine set a gentle hand on her patient's shoulder. "Nothing to worry about, J.D.." she assured. "Bruises mostly. Perhaps a couple of cracked ribs. We'll take a couple of x-rays to make sure. But, first, we need to clean up these cuts." She glanced at Buck sharply. "This will sting a bit." she warned Buck as much as J.D..

Buck looked up at her, his eyes narrowing. At that moment he was ready to kill anyone who hurt his boy... even if it was a helpful pain.

Nathan stepped a little closer to his wife, just in case, but Raine ignored both men. She was a doctor. And damn any man or over protective lover that had the misfortune to get between her and a patient.

As it turned out, neither of the men were needed.

When Raine began to clean the cuts, J.D.. didn't even flinch. He didn't even look up. When Buck knew it should hurt, J.D.. didn't seem to notice he was being touched.

Buck looked over his shoulder to Nathan. "Why isn't he doing anything?" he wanted to know. "It's like he doesn't... feel."

"He's in shock." Nathan repeated.

But Buck shook his head. "I've seen him in shock before. Last year when he broke his leg jumping that fence like damn Startskey and Hutch... he sure as hell cussed out a yellow streak when Raine touched him then."

Raine chuckled. "Did he even know who Startskey and Hutch were?"

"This isn't funny!" Buck snapped.

"No, it isn't." Raine agreed calmly. She set down the sponge, picked up a folded blanket from the foot of the bed, and wrapped it around J.D.'s shoulders. "But it is normal." She wrapped an arm around his shoulders and gentle hugged J.D.. back to her. "It's a different type of shock than the broken leg. That was physical. This is emotional." She ran her free hand through his black curls. "He's been traumatized. We need to make him feel warm, safe, comfortable."

Nathan dropped his eyes for a moment, before looking up again, his eyes catching Buck's. "Need to make sure he doesn't think it was his fault."

"His fault!" Buck flared, suddenly remembering the scene he had walked in on when Chris was verbally hammering the kid. "'Course it wasn't his fault. Why the hell would anyone think it was his fault?" he demanded, rising up, ready to take on any asshole who told him otherwise.

"It was my gun."

The three looked down, startled by the first words J.D.. had said since Buck had first picked him up. Since he hadn't reacted to pain, they had assumed that he wasn't even listening.

Buck cupped his face in his hands and tilted it up so he could gaze into those painfully dulled eyes. "You listen to me, and you listen damn, fucking good: it was not your fault! You were attacked. That's no one's fault but the homophobic closet jerk-offs that jumped you! Goddamn it, J.D.. you put two of them in the hospital yourself. You did everything you could possibly do to save Ez."

J.D.. blinked. "It was my gun." he repeated, as if there was nothing more to be said on the subject. He pushed Buck back. Clutching the blanket around his shoulders, he slid off the bed, and stumbled toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Raine wanted to know, following.

"Home." he mumbled, sounding half asleep.

"Buck, wheelchair." Raine ordered, waving the man toward the requested mode of transportation in the corner. Then she turned her attention back to her patient who was trying to pull open the door while leaning up against it. "First we get you an x-ray and check out those ribs."

"I want to go home." he protested, though he didn't resist as she gently pulled him back to the wheelchair.

"You will, sweety." Raine assured. "Just as soon as I make sure you're alright, I'll wheel you out to Buck's jeep myself." She looked over her shoulder. "Nate, you wanna take Buck to the cafeteria? I'll page you when we're done."

"I'm going with him." Buck protest.

"No, you are not." Raine answered. "You are going to eat while you have the chance. And talk to 'Siah and Vin about what the hell is going to happen to those fucking bastards." She added the last in a surprisingly venomous hiss. Then rolled J.D.. away.

Saturday, 11:00am

Vin leaned forward. "What the hell do you mean you want his badge?" he demanded.

"I mean..." the FBI team leader continued "that an officer of the law was shot with another officer of the law's side arm. It is procedure that Agent Dunne is suspended until a full investigation..."

"Bull shit!" Vin snapped. "J.D.. was taken down, disarmed, and his weapon was used in a felony! Fuck, he got right back up and kept on fighting! They could of finished both of them off if he didn't get back up... with cracked ribs, mind you!"

"Mighta been better if they had been finished off." Josiah growled.

"What?" Vin exclaimed, turning to glare at what was supposed to have been his back up.

But Josiah was too busy glaring at the FBI and his cohorts to notice his partner's shock. Crossing his arms over his chest, he shrugged. "Think about it. If they had both died our so-called superior wouldn't have to explain to the press what a pair of their male agents were doing when they were jumped coming out of a gay sex store." He smiled a humorless smile. "Nope. They wouldn't have to say a damn thing about wheres or whys or what-fors. Two dead cops aren't gay. They're heroes. And heroes make a shit load of better press."

The FBI held up his hand. "Now, you can shut up right there, Agent Sanchez. Before you make the big mistake of accusing us of... "

"Discrimination?" Josiah offered up. He glanced at Vin. "Thought that's what I was doing. Did I screw up the delivery?"

Vin shrugged. "Hell, I caught on. Maybe they're stupider than they look."

"Impossible." Josiah turned back to the FBI. "No one can be that stupid."

"Well, shit." snarled one of the FBI flunkies. "Screw enteragency relationships." He took a step forward, his fists coming up.

"Hey!" ATF Regional Director Travis hollered. "What is going on here!" he demanded, stepping between the two teams. His presence was enough to step both sides back, each having more than a healthy dose of respect for the man. He sent a paralyzing glare at each of them men, before growling "One officer is shot, near death. Another beaten and broken. And all you can think to do is take swings at each other? What kinda of cops are you?" He set his jaw. "Gentlemen, we have cop killers to fry!"

"Sir," Vin started, "they want to suspend J.D..!"

"As is procedure." Travis countered. He turned to face the FBI straight on. "And after' he returns from medical leave, I', since it is my' agent, will see to all proper procedures."

"But, sir..." the FBI attempted, "shot cops falls under the Bureaus jurisdiction."

"Not when they are my' cops!" Travis snapped. "Now, someone fill me in. What the hell happen to my boys? Who the hell did it? And why the hell did they do it?"

The FBI's Team Leader, John Cowen, tapped his computerized note pad on the palm of his hand. "The suspects are claiming self defense in the attack of Agent Dunne. They say agent Dunne was the one that shot Agent Standish."

"That's a load of crap!" Vin shouted, stepping forward.

"'Course it is!" Cowen shouted back. he threw his hands in the air. "Look, we've been in Denver just as long as Team Seven. We've butted heads and we've saved each other's asses. We know what happened. We know J.D.. wouldn't hurt Ezra if his life depended on it. But we have to do this by the book. And not just because they happen to fags! I don't give a royal crap in the pants if they fuck girls, if they fuck guys, hell, if they fuck cattle! "It's because they're cops! And, sure as hell, no cop bashing assholes are gonna be let loose on the streets because I screwed up the case!"

Vin's fists doubled up and he took a step forward, but Josiah grabbed his arm.

"He's right." he told his partner. With an apologetic glance to Cowen, he admitted "Seems Seven has been a little on edge, blowing up at all the wrong people."

Cowen sighed. "If it'd been one of us, Gary or Steve..." He almost glanced back at his two youngest agents, both of which were standing about looking somewhere between completely innocent and ready to tackle the first lawbreaker who had the misfortune to walk on by. He knew from experience that his team would do more than blow up at the wrong people if either of them had been hurt.

"Point is," spoke up his second, "we won't let them get away with it. Shit, even if their story was half believable, the Glamour Store had security cameras. Most of the attack is on tape with, get this, sound." He smirked, turning to Travis. "Agent Dunne is most definitely on the ground, getting the shit kicked out of him, when the gun shot is heard. He couldn't of been the one to pull the trigger."

"No shit, Sherlock." Vin growled.

"Agent Tanner." Travis warned, before turning his attention back to Cowen and his men. "Why did it happen? Revenge or discourage?"

"Neither." Cowen answered. He looked pass the ATF director and met Josiah's eyes. "According to the name calling, J.D... Agent Dunne was the victim of random violence. They didn't know who or what he was. He was picked because he looked like an easy target in front of a homosexual establishment."

"It was a fucking gay bashing... sir." his second once again added his bit.

Travis paused, tilting his head to one side. Gay? Call him old fashion, but he had always left it at a no ask, no tell' policy. He did not want to know about it. But, now that it was going to be made an issue in a crime... After a moment, he turned to face Josiah square on. "Are Dunne and Standish a... "Now just how does one say this? "A couple?"

Vin huffed. "Shit, no!" Remembering who he was talking to, he quickly added a "Sir.", before turning away to find something interesting on the office walls.

Josiah almost smiled, glancing at his friend. "No, sir." he confirmed. "J.D.. and Ezra are not a couple'."

Travis sighed with relief. "Then they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time? Walking by?"

Josiah was glad Vin was turned away. This was not a conversation he wanted him in. Hell, it wasn't a conversation he' wanted to be in. But, since he was here... "No, sir, not exactly." he took a deep breath. "They were shopping at Glamour."

Travis' eyes narrowed. He ignored the shuffle behind him as the FBI agents made a hastily retreat. "Explain!" he ordered.

"Sir, Ezra took J.D.. shopping for Buck's birthday." Josiah winced.

The director stood very still for a moment, then asked "Then Dunne and Wilmington...?"

"Yes, sir."

"And how does Standish fit in?" Just how the hell perverted was his best team?

"Ezra and..." Deep breath. "Chris, sir, are in a... are together, sir." Double wince.

Travis paled, his jaw dropped, the unshakable tower of righteous crime fighter and upholder of peace and justice was shocked. "Are you telling me that..." He paused to recount, just in case. "That four out of seven agents... it is just four, right? You and Tanner aren't... Shit, Jackson is married! If he's screwing around on his wife..."

"Holy shit, fuck no!" Vin exclaimed, spinning about. "Sir, no way in hell, sir. No offense, 'Siah, but..."

"None taken." Josiah assured, before turning his attention back to their boss. "Director Travis, I assure you that the guys conduct themselves purely professional. There has never been a breach of protocol brought on by their relationships with one another. If anything, it's made us a better team. We all work well together, look after each other, take care of each other..."

"Sure. I'll put it in next week's Improve your Work Environment' column in the ATF Weekly... Fuck your coworker!'" Travis growled.

"That isn't fair!" Vin protested.

"What isn't fair was that no one concerned themselves with protocol." Travis snapped. "One does not have a relationship, heterosexual nor homosexual, with them member of one's team!" Spinning about, he snapped a hand in the air, calling Cowen back to him. "Did either of them identified themselves? As ATF Agents, that is."

"Dunne didn't have a chance, sir. but, when Standish came out, he did." Cowen answered, returning to the group. "But, according to the tape, he got as far as Stop! A.T...' before the gunfire drowns him out."

Travis scratched his chin. "So, this, without a doubt, wasn't a revenge crime. It was a hate crime."

"Yes, sir. certainly looking that way." Cowen glanced at his men. "We're still doing interviews and waiting to talk to Dunne and Standish."

Travis tilted his head to one side. "And how are they?" he wanted to know, not even looking at Josiah.

The big profiler sighed, rubbing his temple. "J.D.. has some major bruising, a few cuts, some cracked ribs. and he's suffering from a pretty heavy dose of shock." He stopped there.

When more didn't come, Travis turned to look at the man. "And Standish?"

Josiah dropped his eyes. "Ez is in a coma. It is unsure when he'll wake up and even more unsure what extent of brain damage he will suffer as a result."

"Shit." Travis cursed. He looked at his watch. it was already eleven o'clock in the morning. The press was waiting outside, on the steps of the justice building, for a statement from him. And he had run out of antacids five hours ago. It had been a hell of a night, a worse morning, and an even worse day... and it wasn't even noon yet. So, he did the only thing a man like him could do on a shitty day: he began to give orders. "Agent Sanchez, I want you and Tanner to return to your offices and prepare your case loads to be handed out to other teams. As of now Team Seven stands down to take care of their own. Cowen, I want every word of this investigation on my desk by one. I want this case tied up, locked up, and sitting in death row before the press gets there teeth into it. Keep J.D.. and Ezra's name out of it. No one with anything that resembles a recorder or a camera is to get within a hundred yards of either of them. Now, move and get it done!" That said, he turned and headed for the front doors, wishing to god he didn't have to step out there and figure out how to announce a hate crime on two of his officers without revealing what about them there was to hate.

"Oh, happy days." Vin groaned.

"Ditto, dude." Cowen's second agreed.

tbc 


End file.
